


relief

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom!Lotor, M/M, NSFW, NSFWE, Omorashi, Smut, Wetting, top!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: Keith gets a little too handsy after a training session. Keith isn’t so kind as to let Lotor get a break to go relieve himself in the heat of the moment.





	relief

Lotor could commend the little paladin on his mettle, but more than that still, Keith was notoriously determined. Their training session has devolved from swords to fists and then to the head of lips and tongues before they’d even finish the points-scoring system. It had been no better once they made their way from the training room itself, trying to avoid the risk of be ing caught, to the changing room and showers. For someone half-Galra, Keith’s height had put him at what Lotor would have thought to be a disadvantage, but he knew better than the underestimate anyone who was a little smaller than the average; how often had he pitted himself against stronger, larger, full-blooded opponents and come out the better from his higher speed? 

Still, once they detached from the heated kisses of the immediate battlefield, Keith had not been willing to take the even-tie they’d ended on that easily. They moment they were out of public sight, Keith had seized one of Lotor’s wrists, taking the precaution, at least, to grab one of the bottles of slick mystery-fluid used primarily to rub down and moisturize after washing in the showers. Taking a seat on one of the benches of the locker room, he wasted little time in pulling Lotor into his lap. It’s immediately obvious that Keith was hard from the pressure where Lotor’s hips pressed to his own, Lotor straddling him to make the situation a little more comfortable. There’s an old, familiar pressure in the pit of his stomach; the urge to relieve himself had been part of why Lotor had finished their training session in the first place, but Keith’s lips were already at his collarbone, and he decided he could hold it, just a little longer. 

“Are you always this excitable after training?” It’s impossible to hide the amusement in his tone, which only hitches when Keith reaches behind him to take a firm handful of Lotor’s ass, squeezing in retaliation for the teasing. He was sure he would have been silenced, had Keith’s lips not been so enamored with teasing blue and magenta marks into his skin with both teeth and lips. At one point, he feels Keith nearly bite and that draws a slow exhale from him as well. 

“As much as I appreciate your vigor, I need a moment.” He started to shift, though he’s reminded of Keith’s ever-present impatience and before he can move to shift off of the other’s lap, Keith grips his hips and pulls him tighter, growling a quiet ‘wait’ into the curve of shoulder and neck, flush to his collarbone. It’s enough to send a quiet shudder down Lotor’s spine, though the pressure in the pit of his stomach was becoming too much to ignore now. Did Keith not know of why he was trying to break from him, or did he simply not care in that flood of demanding desire? 

Somewhere in the back of Lotor’s mind, he registers the sound of that bottle being popped open, and only one of Keith’s hands holding him down. He can’t see it, the occurrence taking place behind him, but there’s a little bit of surprise as he feels the chill of slicked fingers tucking under the back of his pants; Keith truly wasted no time, no romantic displays of shameless grinding against him to drive them both on. Lotor could respect such simple sentiments; Keith knew what he wanted, and he wasted very little time getting to it. There’s also a deep set, unspoken gratitude for the fact that Keith’s fingers did not bear the same retractable claws as his own, and that he kept his fingernails trimmed short—it kept the brush of fingers against his entrance from stinging, especially when Keith teased a single finger inside. Lotor’s jaw clenched, and his claws gripped against one of Keith’s shoulders. The pressure stretching him was not unwelcome, but it makes it that much harder to try and control himself, to hold back. “Keith.” His voice is a bit rougher, dropping in pitch as his eyes close tightly, trying to center his thoughts on restraining himself. “I need to take a break before we do this, and go-“

“Hold it.” It’s less of an instruction and more of a soft command, and Lotor, who had never been allowed himself to be commanded by anyone short of his father in his life, felt a warm heat rush through him. So Keith did know just exactly what he was doing to him, and that little bit of lost control makes Lotor’s pulse race. Could he hold it? He had no preparation, no anticipation for what Keith was doing, and he was already feeling the subtle burn of trying to restrain himself for this long. In his musings, Lotor nearly missed the start of pressure from the second finger, coaxing in the with the first one. He’s thankful that even if Keith was being particularly cruel in making him hold himself, that he had been liberal with the stand-in lube. 

He exhales sharply through pointed teeth as Keith kisses a path up to his jaw, teeth tugging almost playfully at the lobe of his ear in comparison for what the former Paladin’s intentions were. The stroke of fingers in him go deep until he could feel the knuckles of the hand brush against him, and that enough is to make Lotor’s breath shorten into quiet, barely contained rasps. He’s just as hard as Keith now, and that didn’t help the situation either. “Hurry,” he replied in a quiet demand, feeling Keith’s fingers spread in him to help the slow stretch. He wouldn’t break and they both knew it; the Galra in them made them of a sturdier stock than either of their other features. 

Neither are patient enough to try for a third finger, and Lotor’s distinctly aware of one hand dragging the material of his pants down enough to just expose his ass, Keith rolling his weight up with his hips once to push his own down. The material of their training pants is pliant and easy to maneuver, and it isn’t long until Keith is hard and grinding skin-against-skin, hard between the curve of Lotor’s cheeks. There’s a bit of chill again: fresh lubrication, and Lotor can nearly hear his heart pounding in his ears from the fact that Keith wasn’t going to give him the break he needed to relieve himself. There’s a press, Keith positioning himself to ease the tip of his cock in. Lotor is almost furious at the slowness of it, and he presses down in his brief moment of impatience, reminding Keith that the position he’d chosen for them gave Lotor a little more control than what he’d anticipated. If Keith was going to make him stay, then Lotor would insist on finishing it as soon as possible. A low groan slipped from Keith’s lips, eyes closing as the prince in his lap rides down against him. 

He rolls his hips up to meet him, the slow, deliberate stretch of muscles around him sending a grinding shudder through his spine. “Fuck-“ 

It’s a word Lotor has heard him say before, in much akin to the way he knew quiznak was used, and it tells him that the motion was doing something right. It’s difficult to move though, to put pressure and strain on the very same muscles keeping him from wetting himself, but he believed that Keith’s thrusts under him alone would finish the ordeal quickly enough. Lotor feels the scrape of still-slick and trimmed nails against his shoulder blade—before his fingers dug against the skin, and Lotor can’t anticipate what happened next. 

With the one hand against his back and his other hand gripping Lotor’s thigh so tightly he was sure it would bruise, Keith started moving. It wasn’t the slow, affectionate grind upwards that he might have anticipated otherwise; when Keith moved, he moved fast, a rough pace set as he pitched his back against the wall behind the bench and slammed upwards. Were it not for the grip on his leg holding him down, Lotor would have sworn that the movement could have dislodged him from his position, but as it was, it rammed Keith so deeply into him with such a quick motion that it tore a surprised, heated little moan from the prince, his head tilting back for a moment to spill pale hair across his shoulder and back. It didn’t stop there, Keith’s hips snapping up to pull from him then repeat the motion, and startled, he felt the jerk of warmth slide through him like a knife. 

“Not so hard.“ Another thrust, and Lotor’s breath caught in his throat. “I can’t hold back if you-“ 

His attempts at commanding mercy into Keith’s motions are ignored, and the hand that had held him down by the thigh moved, his grip still snug, but now with the back of his palm and his wrist pressed to where Lotor was hard; it made sense, suddenly, why Keith had only pulled the material away from his bottom and left him hard still protected by the cover of his pants. Blue eyes snapped up to the shadow of a smirk across Keith’s lips, barely hidden by how he had taken to burying his face into the other’s collarbone—it was difficult, with Lotor’s height, to maintain this position and try to silence him with kisses. “Don’t hold back.” 

There’s an indignant, frustrated little moan as Lotor felt Keith press, with no kindness, to the bundle of nerves in him that sent spikes of heat through him. It’s the pressure and the continued, fast thrusts that make something almost snap in him, and he flushes a dark color as he feels himself spilling over. 

“Wait, wait-“ It’s the closest he’s ever come to pure humiliation, but it rushes forward all at once, claws digging into the skin of one of Keith’s shoulders but the other half-breed can’t bring himself to care. 

It isn’t cum, that would have been a relief of its own, but Lotor can’t help but feel shame burn through him as Keith fucks him so feverently that he could no longer hold back. The dark, hot stain of urine appears on the front of his pants, each little stream making him pulse around Keith in a way that had Keith groaning sweetly into his shoulder. Lotor’s breath comes in a shudder, leaning hard into Keith’s body as he empties himself in the tightness of his own pants against Keith’s lap. Whether it’s the heat or the rush of power that comes with making Lotor desperate enough to wet himself, Keith gave a throaty little groan, his hips pressing up deep once more as he came. He bites teeth to skin as he muffles his own noise, feeling himself jerk once, then twice with the sensation of finishing inside of the other, nearly glowing with the adrenaline of seeing the other undone so beautifully. 

Though the relief Lotor felt was far more physical than emotional, he’s left with the embarrassment of the mess he’d made, only comforted by the slow, praise-like kisses that Keith lavished his well-marked throat, and there’s the nearly-awkward realization that while he hadn’t managed to physically cum, the sensation alone had been something similar, either from the direct stimulation of his prostate or the way Keith had been shamelessly eager to take him. He’s still half-hard, and by the time Keith recovered, he was more than willing to take care of that as well, slowly peeling back Lotor’s training pants to remove them, using the heat of his palm to stroke Lotor off until he was shaking in his lap all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Secret Santa Gift for the Keitor server! For more of my writing and commission info, please feel free to check me out here: http://ecrituredudesir.tumblr.com


End file.
